


Secret Admirer

by clgfanfic



Category: War of the Worlds (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-02-20
Packaged: 2017-11-29 23:14:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Debi has a crush.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secret Admirer

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Green Floating Weirdness #7 under the pen name Laura Holt & Gillian Holt.

_"That_ would _be a problem."_

 

          Debi leaned against the frame of her bedroom window, watching as the six member Omega Squad suffered through they're rigorous morning calisthenics.  Bright blue eyes followed every jumping jack, every push-up, and every sit-up with rapt attention.  Her palms, pressed against the white painted wood, grew damp.  One of the soldiers glanced up, and she dropped down below the window sill.

          "Ohhh," she breathed, hoping he hadn't seen her.  She squeezed her eyes shut and sighed.  He was just too cute for words…

          The soldiers had been at the Cottage for almost a week now, and the thirteen-year-old had been an avid observer of everything they did…

          Everything one particular Omegan did.

          And he did it all so very well…

          She stared at the large pale pink envelope sitting propped up on her desk across the room.  With another heavy sigh, Debi scrambled away from the window and dressed, then scampered down the stairs to join her mother and the other Blackwood Project adults for breakfast.  She'd deliver the card after her Fruit Loops.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "You animals better be on your best behavior while you're in the main house today," Derriman growled, walking into the coach house kitchen to join the others.

          "Sarge," Goodson said, his tone hurt, "aren't we always?"

          "You haven't had an admirer before," Coleman added, carrying her breakfast over and sitting at one of the picnic tables.

          "Hey, it's _not_ me," the medic said, waving off the idea.

          "We don't know who it is," Derriman corrected.  "So, all of you better act like perfect gentlemen or I'll kick your butts all the way back to Streeter."

          "I think it's Alex," Matthews teased.

          Stravrakos snorted.  "Probably Peterson."

          "Not, me," the soldier defended, "I'm too ugly."

          "Good point," Norah agreed, grinning at Peterson's injured expression.  "Just kidding.  God, male egos are—"

          "My ego is just fine," Matthews countered.  "But it's obvious that Miss McCullough has a crush on _someone_.  I just hope it isn't me.  I don't think the Colonel would find it real amusing."

          Derriman's eyebrows climbed.  "Oh, I don't know.  Don't you think he might have had to deal with a similar situation when they all got here?"

          The soldiers fell silent, contemplating the idea while they finished off their meals.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Man, these things are creepy," Peterson said as he led the way back into the coach house.  "Makin' zombies out of us."

          "Please," Coleman half-growled, but she couldn't stop the shiver that rattled down her spine.  From everything she'd heard there was nothing nice about the aliens, and the more she learned about the creatures, the more unpleasant they became.

          "That's why we're gonna do _exactly_ what the Colonel told us," Derriman explained.  "And make sure none of 'em gets close enough to use that third arm."

          "No shit," Matthews agreed.

          Entering the coach house, they split up, each of the soldiers drifting off to their own activities until a mournful cry from Stravrakos' room brought them all on the run.

          "Oh, no!  No, man… awwww jeeze… man…"

          "Alex?" Norah called anxiously from in front of the closed door.  "Alex, are you okay?"

          "No!"

          "Here."  Derriman stepped forward, his revolver ready, and gripped the doorknob.  Before he could turn it, the brass fixture rotated.

          "Why me, huh?  Why?" the burly sergeant asked, stepping into the hallway with an imploring expression that sparked smiles from the rest.  Derriman tucked his weapon into his belt.

          "Why what?" Goodson questioned.

          Stravrakos held up a large pink envelope and the card it had housed.  His eyes narrowed.  "Is this a joke?" he snarled.  "It's _not_ funny."  He glowered at them until his gaze rested on Coleman.  "Unless you really mean it, Norah."

          "Give me that," she said, snatching the items out of his hand.  Typed across the front of the envelope she found "Sergeant Alexander Stravrakos."  Turning to the card she glanced at the front.  "Happy Thanksgiving" was proclaimed over what she guessed was supposed to be a love-struck turkey.  The other Omegans crowded in to look as Coleman read it aloud.

          She flipped it open to the inside.  "Gobbles of good wishes, from… your secret admirer?"

          The other Omegans burst into laughter.

          "Congratulations," Norah said, looking innocent as she handed back the card and envelope.  "You've stirred the hormones of an intelligent female.  A first, I'm sure.  But I know she'll grow out if it."

          Stravrakos gave the non-com a sour look.  "Thanks.  But would you like to tell me what I should do about it in the meantime?"

          "Request a transfer," Goodson suggested, clearly relieved that he wasn't the target of teenage affection.

          "Yeah," Peterson concurred helpfully, "I hear Alaska's nice this time of year."

          "All those friendly polar bears," Matthews added.

          "Sarge?" Alex asked, turning a pleading expression on Derriman.

          "Son, the best way to avoid trouble is to face it.  Head on, like a man.  Hell, boy, you're Delta Force.  Any time, any place, any damned objective."  He paused, his face a mask of ancient Army wisdom passed down through the ages to all First Shirts.  "Don't forget your parka."

          "Thanks."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Debi waited until the Omegans left the coach house for their daily run.  She could hear the colonel leave the Cottage and join them near the pond.  As soon as they started off she slipped in to carry out a mission of her own.

          Skulking unnecessarily down the coach house hallway she headed for Stravrakos' room.  Once inside she closed the door behind her and carried her latest gift over and laid it on the man's well-made bed.  She'd absconded the flowers from the collection Mrs. Pennyworth pampered around the Cottage.  A pale pink hair-ribbon held the haphazard bunch together.

          She smiled at the picture they presented against the olive wool blanket dust cover.  Turning, she let her gaze roam over the few odds and ends that sat scattered across the top of the dresser and bureau – a picture of Stravrakos and several other soldiers in front of a helicopter.  A small icon of Mary and the baby Jesus.  A pewter eagle swooping down over half a geode.  But it was the small, delicately carved wooden box that intrigued her the most.  As she had on past visits, Debi reached out and tried the lid.  This time, it opened.

          She gasped quietly, debating if she should really look inside, but curiosity won.

          Glancing inside, she found a small gold chain with an unusual cross dangling from it.  Beneath the necklace were several photos.  A young woman with an older man and woman (her parents?).  The young woman with a handsome young man who looked a lot like Stravrakos.  The couple with a small child.  The couple and child at some religious celebration in front of a large church.  Below the photos was a faded, yellowed letter.  Debi touched the brittle pages, but didn't recognize the language, although she suspected that it was Greek – the colonel had told her 'Stravrakos' was Greek.

          Feeling uncomfortable with the sudden realization that she was intruding on Stravrakos' private life, she quickly replaced the photos and the necklace and slipped out of the room.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The knock was tentative, and Ironhorse looked up, his eyebrows raised in curiosity.  "In."

          The door cracked open and Stravrakos slipped inside clandestinely.  "Sir," he said, trying to come to attention while holding something hidden behind his back.

          "At ease," Ironhorse said, watching Omega's junior sergeant.  "Have a seat."

          Stravrakos collapsed into the empty chair across the desk from the colonel, the material slipping into his lap and out of Ironhorse's sight.  "Sir," he said.  "I… I have, uh…  I have a… problem."

          Ironhorse's eyebrows climbed slightly.  "Oh?"

          "It's, it's not my fault, sir.  I mean, I didn't do _anything_."

          The colonel closed the file folder he was reading and rested his arms on the desk top.  "Sergeant, perhaps you should start at the beginning."

          Stravrakos took a deep breath, revealing the flowers and card, sliding them across the desk for the colonel's inspection.

          "For me?" Ironhorse asked dryly.  "That _would_ be a problem."

          Stravrakos blanched. "No, sir.  I mean, yes, but—"

          "Never mind, Sergeant."  Ironhorse set the wilted flora aside and took the envelope, opened it, and pulled out the card.  He read the front and the inside in silence, then closed it, tucked it back into the envelope and stood, pacing over to the window.  Taking up an at-ease stance, he looked out over the grounds, then smiled broadly.

          "Sir?"

          Ironhorse tried not to laugh.  Stravrakos was clearly rattled.  "So, I take it these weren't the first tipoff you've had."

          The sergeant cleared his throat.  "Well…"

          "Well?"

          "We've noticed that we were getting a lot of, ah… attention."

          "Explain," Ironhorse said.  _I really should have anticipated this_ , he chided himself.  _She's at the right age.  I guess I'm just damned lucky that it wasn't me_.  His eyes rolled heavenward.  _Thank you, Grandfather_.

          "We were being watched.  But we couldn't tell who the target was… until this… stuff, started showing up."  The last came out in a near moan.

          "There were other items?" he asked, clearing his throat.

          The sergeant leaned back in his chair.  "Chocolates, cookies, and banana bread," he recited dutifully.  "But everyone sort of ate that evidence."

          "I see."  Ironhorse grinned.  Debi would grow out of the crush, but, until then, it could make things a little uncomfortable for the sergeant.  "I could talk to Dr. McCullough."

          "I— I don't know, sir.  I mean, I don't want to get the kid in any trouble.  It's just—"

          "Distracting?"

          "Disconcerting.  Yes, sir," Stravrakos agreed, relieved that the colonel seemed to understand his problem.

          Ironhorse turned, walking back to his desk and taking a seat, his professional mask firmly settled on his face.  "I'll see what I can do, Sergeant.  But this situation will have to be handled very carefully.  I don't want Debi hurt in any way.  Is that understood, soldier?"

          "Yes, sir."

          "I know this is a difficult situation, Stravrakos.  Just conduct yourself in a professional manner and it'll pass."

          "Yes, sir," the young sergeant mumbled, standing.  "I hope you're right, sir."

          "If not, I'm sure we can clear in a priest or a Chaplin," Ironhorse said seriously, opening the folder.  "Dismissed, Sergeant."

          "Thank you, sir," Alex squeaked.

          The colonel risked a glance at the departing man, almost chucking aloud at the stricken expression.  Maybe that wasn't fair, he thought, but it _was_ funny.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Stravrakos marched into the coach house kitchen.  "All right, people, I want to know _how_ she's getting past our security."

          "What is it this time?" Matthews asked, trying to bury his smile in his coffee cup.  The four new Omegans chuckled softly, having enjoyed the ongoing dilemma for the past week.  Tomorrow would mark the one month anniversary of the McCullough Crush.

          Derriman's head came up, and he sniffed appreciatively.  "Hmm, I'd say chocolate chip," he drawled in his Kentucky best.  "And a couple of oatmeal raisin, too."

          Coleman grinned.  "Hope you're planning to share, Alex."

          "How'd you know, Sarge?" Goodson asked Derriman.

          The First Sergeant puffed up proudly.  "I'll have you know that this nose is the most perfect pastry radar ever developed."  They laughed.

          Alex sat down despondently, depositing the plate of cookies on the table.  He looked pointedly at Derriman.  "Sarge, when's it gonna end?"

          "Hey," Peterson interrupted, helping himself to one of the treats along with the others, "I don't see why you're complaining.  Candy, cookies, cards… flowers…"

          The Omegans snickered.

          "The security question is a good one," Coleman interjected.  "Any ideas how she does it?"

          "She waits for us to head out on our run in the morning and sneaks in them," Derriman explained matter-of-factly.

          "How do you know that, Sarge?" Goodson asked.

          "Remember the other morning when my ankle was kickin' up?"  The others nodded.  "Well, I saw Miss McCullough slip in."

          "And you didn't say anything?" Stravrakos challenged.

          Derriman smiled patiently at the younger man.  "Hell, no!  She was bringin' in that banana bread."  His eyes narrowed.  "You think I'm stupid, boy?"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Stravrakos muttered under his breath as he lugged a stack of lumber into the barn.  Adding the load to the accumulating pile, he turned and nearly collided with Debi as she exited one of the stalls.

          "Uh, hi," she said airily, her cheeks coloring a soft shade of pink.

          "Uh... h— hi," he replied, feeling his ears begin to burn.  "Anything wrong?"

          "No," Debi said, looking away and chewing on her bottom lip.  "I was just brushing Solomon."

          "Oh."  Stravrakos shifted weight, unsure if he should just leave or confront the teen.  "I guess—"

          "Do you ride horses?" Debi said over his comment.

          Alex shook his head, relaxing a little.  "No, never have."

          "It's easy," Debi assured him.  "I could show you."

          "Ah…" he hedged.  "I don't know."

          Debi moved over to the stall, scratching the gelding's nose while he snorted at her pockets, hoping to turn up a treat.  "Solomon is really nice."

          "I can see that," Alex said, walking over to join the pair.  He sat down, leaning back against the stall door.  What had Derriman said?  Any damned objective…

          Solomon, wondering who he was, snuffled the top of his head, eliciting a laugh from Debi.

          "Can I tell you a secret?" he asked, hoping he was going about this in the right manner.

          The blue eyes widened.  "Sure," she replied.

          Alex reached up and petted the horse's nose.  "Well, you know how isolated it is out here."  Debi nodded.  "And even though the ten of us are together in the coach house, well, I guess I get a little lonesome."

          "You do?" Debi asked, dropping down to sit on the ground.  She shoved her hands into her jacket pocket, pulling out a carrot.

          "Yeah, sometimes."  Stravrakos waited while she held up the offering and Solomon accepted it, crunching loudly above his head.  "I guess it's been pretty hard for you, not having any friends here."

          "I guess," Debi said with a shrug.

          "Well, I'd like it if we could be friends."

          "Really?"

          He nodded.  "A real friend is hard to find.  And they're better than girlfriends and boyfriends, too."

          Debi's cheeks turned rosy.  "Oh?"

          "I think so."  Pushing himself to his feet, Alex reached out and pulled Debi up as well.  "See, secret admirers are okay, but having someone you can talk to is a lot better."

          "Oh," she said softly.

          "Think about it, okay?"

          She nodded.

          Stravrakos tugged his jacket down.  "I guess I better go get the rest of this wood for the obstacle course."

          "Can I help?" Debi asked, her blue eyes hopeful.

          "I don't see why not," he told her, gesturing to the open door.

          She scampered out.

          Following, he wasn't sure if what he'd said would make a difference, but at least it was a start.  And she was a nice enough kid…


End file.
